


Pause

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-14 15:31:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16915524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Elrond makes Lindir take a nap.





	Pause

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit, The Lord of the Rings, or any of their contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Despite the unusually large influx of guests, the afternoon feels relatively peaceful. The clouds are nowhere to be seen, the light bright and unobstructed, the minstrels in a merry mood and filling the air with pleasant, lilting songs. When Elrond turns towards his window and strains to hear, he can even make out the telltale touch of Bilbo in their lyrics. To give everything that final spot of perfection, the kitchens have seen fit to bake enough new bread to feed a small army, and the wafting aroma permeates even his office.

The only thing that isn’t calm and leisurely is Elrond’s lovely assistant, who flitters about the office like a hummingbird with fire at its back. At times, Lindir seems overwhelmed with their visitors, at others, merely exasperated. Elrond does try to alleviate that burden, but every time he does so, Lindir forces a smile and insists, “I am fine, my lord. Please, do not trouble yourself.”

Elrond’s seen enough centuries pass to rarely feel troubled by such petty thing as listless dwarves and bedraggled men staying beneath his roof. The only thing that does give him difficulty now is Lindir’s stress. It doesn’t help that Erestor’s currently on leave, visiting Lothlórien with Glorfindel, leaving no one else for Lindir to turn to. 

On the seventh time that Lindir seems to freeze up at his desk, reeling to a sudden stop as though his energy’s been jerked away, Elrond sighs, “Lindir.”

Lindir’s head snaps up. He looks thoroughly _lost_ , in that too-many-roads-to-travel sort of way. Given that his desk is covered in too many scrolls to see the wooden surface, that’s not surprising. 

Elrond tells him in no uncertain terms, “Go and rest. You have worked hard enough this morning for several days worth, and I will not have you falling asleep at the dinner table again.”

Lindir’s cheeks instantly heat, painting his face a pretty pink. He must know that Elrond isn’t trying to scold him, and yet he mumbles, “I... am so sorry for that, my lord... it will not happen again...”

“It will not,” Elrond agrees, “because you will rest now, and renew what energy you will need for the rest of the evening.”

Lindir opens and closes his mouth a few times. Elrond knows he’s fighting with himself, stuck between protesting and obeying his lord’s command. He’s as hard working as he is subservient. Finally, he musters the weak excuse, “My quarters are too far from your office, my lord. If you were to need me, I would cost you time and trouble...”

Elrond can’t imagine needing Lindir _that_ urgently, at least not for work, in the middle of a perfectly wonderful day. But he knows Lindir’s mind will conjure a dozen reasons, so he works with Lindir and suggests instead, “Perhaps you may use one of the guest quarters, then. There are many places you might lie down that are closer to me. Choose any that you like.”

“My lord...”

“You have free-run of my home, Lindir. You know I would give you my own bed if you wished it.”

If possible, Lindir’s blush deepens. His lips twitch in the beginnings of a smile, which he visibly tries to hide, always concerned with propriety. Elrond has no such worries and offers an encouraging smile. Lindir slowly asks, “I may rest _anywhere_...?”

“Yes,” Elrond confirms. He doesn’t need to add ‘within reason,’ because he knows Lindir would never choose anywhere unreasonable. Lindir bites his bottom lip, chewing it lightly while he stews in hesitation. Then he bows his head low in acceptance.

Elrond looks back down to his own work—a report from Glorfindel that he intends to have a reply sent off for within the hour. He sees Lindir move in his peripherals, but not towards the door.

Instead, Lindir comes around his desk. Elrond glances to him, only for Lindir to sink down to his knees, gracefully sitting on the plush carpet under Elrond’s desk. Then Lindir folds his arms over Elrond’s legs, slumping down to rest his head atop them. The position hides his blush, though Elrond knows it’s still there. He can _feel_ Lindir’s warmth and tentative touch. He can’t help how fond his smile grows. 

He reaches down to thread his fingers through Lindir’s chestnut coloured hair. Lindir sighs with clear happiness. Elrond continues to stroke him. Even as Elrond returns to his reading, he keeps one hand lovingly petting Lindir. It’s a ridiculous position, but he knows that Lindir has an odd definition of comfort. And he’s quite sure Lindir is comfortable. 

He waits until Lindir’s fallen asleep against his legs, and then he bends down to collect both his scroll and his attendant, and he carries them both off to his bedroom. Lindir deserves a proper mattress, and Elrond can finish his work from there, whilst watching over the elf who’s long since had his heart.


End file.
